The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1887-02-18

tears on the little fellows cheeks after
the women had kissed him goodbye
tears that did not come from Sammy's
big blue eyes.
1t was late in August when the little
Oils found themselves far out on the
dreary Kansas plains. A weary, woe
BECOME lot of little way-farers they
were by this time. 1t would have
made your heart ache to have seen
them.
Sammy had grown SO thin and pale.
The bloom and the plumpness had gone
from his cheek, and he cried SO much.
Katie was pale and thin too, and often
impatient. Zebby had never been
strong, and Marcia could see that it
was only through effort that he was
able to sit on the wagon-seat and hold
the lines. She could see how he some
times laid his head YEARLY against the
wagon-cover bow, and he did look SO
sick and thin some days.
Poor old Bally looked ready to drop
in his tracks at any moment, and some
days Marcia would turn the old fellow
out on the parched, brown grass for
half day, while she and the other
children sat in the little shade made by
the wagon, for they were now in fiat
and treeless land.
Sometimes they would drive twenty
miles without meeting any one, and the
nearest houses were miles distant, for
it was many years ago that these poor
little Dills made this long, hard jour
ney.
They were long distance from any
house one burning day during the last
week in August. Poor Sammy had
been sick all day, and had cried feebly
most of the time. Old lobe had lain
down by the roadside and died that
morning, and the children had cried
when they drove away and left him
there.
Zebby had been so sick the day be-
fore that they had stayed all day on the
fiat banks of sluggish, greenish-yel-
low stream, in which old Bally had
stood most of the day fighting the flies.
Their provisions were almost gone,
and what they had left was distasteful
to them all. Sammy could not eat it
at all, and the cow gave hardly any
milk. Marcia's money was nearly all
gone. She had to have doctor for
Sammy sevsfal times on the road, and
medicine was so expensive.
At the close of this hot day, they
found a lone and almost leafless tree,
under which they camped. Bally had
just been turned loose, when, to
Marcia's utter dismay, the poor old
horse had suddenly fallen over dead.
Marcia quite broke down under this
browning woe, and cried long time.
But after she and Zebby and Katie had
eaten their coarse bread and drank
their black coffee, she had something
else to think of, for Zebby, with a little
cry Of 80 Marciar' tainted away in her
arms.
Marcia could not revive him. She
brought water and bathed his burning
face, but he only moaned and rolled
his hot head from side to side. Night
came on and Zebby was growing worse.
1t began to rain a little, and Marcia
never knew how she got Zebby into
the wagon beside the fretful Sammy.
A little after dark, she put on her sun
bonnet and said very firmly to Katie !:
'Katie, dear; Brother Zebby is very
sick, and sister must go for help. Lie
down by Sammy, and sleep if you can,
and don't leave the wagon. If Zebby
should come to and ask for me, tell
him where | have gone"
Then Marcia put candle in her tin
lantern, and hung it on wheel of the
wagon to guide her back home. She
could see, far across the plain, dim
light and before dark had noticed a
house in that direction.
Her only hope was in reaching this
house before the light went out. She
knew that she could never find it in
the dark in that roadless country.
That house was five miles away, and
Marcia's brown feet were sore and
blistered before she left the wagon.
They were bleeding now, and her
sAheart as we'll as her limbs were aching.
She cried softly while hurrying over
that plain, and wiped the tears away
on her ragged sleeve. She prayed
steadily that the light would not 90
out, and it did not, although it was al
most midnight when poor Marcia
reached it.
A family named Barnes lived in the
little one-roomed house. One of the
three children was i'll; and Mrs. Barnes
was sitting up with him. No sooner
was Marcia's sorrowful story told than
Mr.. Barnes set out for the wagon, with
Marcia behind him on his horse. On
her arm was little basket of food Mrs.
Barnes had given her out of her own
scanty supply.
Mr.. Barnes and Marcia watched all
night by Zebby. He knew them in the
morning, but was very i'll. Mr.. Barnes
thought it best not to move Zebby for
few hours, and went back home,
promising to return during the day and
take them all to his house. But about
nine o'clock big green-and-red farm
wagon came rafting merrily along
over the road. A short stout old
man with a round, red face sat on
high spring seat. BY his side sat a
little old lady, peering eagerly through
her glasses towards Marcia's wagon.
That's them, Jonas, 1 do think"
said the old lady.
"Hope So" said Jonas, briefly.
And few moments later he Jumped
down from the high seat and caught
ragged, amazed Marcia up in his arms.
You're my neice, Marshy Dill, an I
k'aoU it, y he said, kissing her on both
cheeks.
"Uncle Jonas!" gasped Marcia.
"The very same" cried Jonas, San
here's Aunt Cindy. Now where's